Migrant Fleet Marine
by Serza
Summary: Can a Quarian Marine survive the Reaper war? And how did she end up with the Special Forces in the first place? A take on Quarian SF's with OCs as well as known characters. 2179-2186.
1. Prologue

Prologue

[Date classified], 2186  
Menae, Palaven's largest moon, Trebia system, Apien Crest

BOOM

"GET DOWN!"

"What WAS that?"

"Harvester!"

"Alpha's gone! I repeat, Alpha's gone! Major! I need orders!"

"Bravo, take left flank. Charlie, on me, we've got center - Hisha! Wake up! Grab your marksmen, right flank's yours!"

That was the cue. Materializing out of thin air, Sar emptied the last of her Viper's magazine in a Marauder. "Marksmen! Right! On me!"

Half a dozen men have suddenly crouched up in a nearby ditch, darting for the completely open flank.

Not waiting for them to take positions, Sar hit her cloak again, closed in with two long leaps and stabbed a Husk in the thing's forehead, drawing her Phalanx in place of the now-dropped marksman rifle by her feet, putting a hole in another's chest.

The drill round stopped no sooner than it found a massive hulking form...

"BRUTE!"

"FRAG THAT THING!"

A vicious swing from the creature...

"ARGH!"

"CORPSMAN!"

Thoughts were a blur - Armor... Weakness... Fire...

Then a plan materialized... "Cover me!" - the order was as unneccessary as explaining her plan.

Hitting her cloak, Sar set on a sprint towards the offending Reaper...

"Hisha! Are you crazy? Get back!" ... Major Reegar. He knew when to stand back. Not this time...

She pushed the thoughts aside and circled the Brute - now hell bent on wiping out the rest of her squad.

She leaped...

And found herself on a surface of flesh modified with cybernetics, pushing back the urge to vomit as her suit receptors transferred the feeling to her very hands...

"Not today, you big dumb bosh'tet!"

Armor. Weak to fire and any penetrative ammunition... Incinerate...

As Hisha's Omni-Tool fired off a deadly ball of plasma, her cloak finally gave out to cool down...

The Brute roared in... was that pain?... and reared on it's legs to throw Sar off.

Burned herself from such a close quarters discharge of thousand degree hot ball of hell, Sar couldn't hold on...

And found herself againist a stone, unable to move her legs.

This was it. As the Goliath turned to David, the fight seemed over.

"Not today..."

Years of drill forced Hisha to raise her Phalanx, still loaded with Drill ammunition...

And empty the rest of it in her nemesis as darkness began to creep in her vision.

Having enough, the Brute slumped dead, it's huge claw-arm falling two feet away from the rock...

"Close call... Job done, Major."

The last thing she saw before passing out was her platoon getting torn apart by Ravager fire.

Footsteps... "Spirits... They really held out, didn't they?" Flanging voice...

Turians?

"Commander! We've a live one!"

"Command, this is Third Taetrus. Need medical on our location, sterile environment! We've a Quarian survivor." Another voice, presumably the Turian commanding officer...

The first voice came back, closer, yelling to the distance at first... "I need a CLS here! Doc, where are you?!" ... then it went quieter, as if to speak to her... "We've got you... Sergeant Hisha. Don't worry."

Sfc. Sar'Neda vas Neema blacked out, unable to explain the only 'name' on her poison green enviro-suit was the nickname they gave her when she joined 1st Special Forces of the Migrant Fleet Marines...

Hisha. The original name of the deadliest snake of Rannoch. A relatively ancient Khelish word, unused since the Morning War. Except scientific datapads and, since 2183, the 1st SF stationed onboard the Neema.

Many of the scientist described the snake as a lethal ambush predator. Capable of lying in wait for days on end, to deliver one precise, mortal strike and then disappear as if invisible, it's dark green skin aiding it in avoiding detection. Much like the color would aid Sfc. Neda to precisely strike her numerous enemies throughout the years without being detected, disappearing under the cover of her cloak, as if invisible almost three hundred years after the homeworld was evacuated during the War...

Strangely, the closest translation any VI knew would forever be "Viper"...


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Up Close and Personal**

* * *

**5th July, 2179**  
**MFV (Migrant Fleet Vessel) Iktomi, Migrant Fleet, in orbit of Treyarmus, Cacus system, Hades Gamma cluster**

"Welcome to your basic training, Marines! In the next three weeks, you will learn everything a Quarian needs to become a Migrant Fleet Marine. Now, don't be surprised - here, we do things two ways - the wrong way and MY WAY! The first AND last words out of your mouths will ALWAYS be SIR! UNDERSTOOD? And if ANY of you have the balls, some of you worthless idiots MIGHT even make it past specialization and being a dumb grunt on the battlefield. But looking at you sorry lot, I don't think we'll see many of those around here. The next three weeks WILL be BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS! We do not want uncle Gerrel to think this is a holiday camp, do we?! DO YOU MAGGOTS UNDERSTAND?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the chorus answered.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, MAGGOTS!"

"SIR YES SIR!" came a much stronger answer.

The drill instructor stopped pacing in front of Sar...

"Sound off, recruit!"

"Sir, Recruit Sar'Neda vas Neema nar Iktomi, Sir!"

She could see him towering over her in his camouflage envirosuit, no doubt created for especially these occassions...

"I'M SORRY, WHAT I MEAN WAS 'SOUND OFF LIKE YOU GOT A PAIR'!"

Sar's eyes slid down from the DI's faceplate on his armored breastplate, where his name and rank stood proudly: Sgt. Juti'Nara...

"Now, if you'll be so nice to show us how to run the obstacle course I've prepared?!"

Sar almost sighed, reminding herself at the last moment it would probably leave her in a LOT of trouble on her first day of basic - he indeed wasn't kidding. The obstacle course, quickly set up in Iktomi's cargo bay looked... _monstrous_ at best.

"Sir, Yes Sir!"

"Up and over!" What? A wall? Keelah, how was she supposed to get over that?

Pushing the thought aside, Sar rushed up to it and jumped... To find herself with a grip on the top of the obstacle.

"What are you waiting for! Move it! I SAID MOVE IT, RECRUIT!" Pull...

And she was on the other side!

"Knees and elbows! Hit the dirt!" Dirt... Wait, what! There was actual DIRT on the deck! Where did they get it? On second thought, she realized it's better to not ask. Leave the potential infection risk to the clean-up crew... _without_ becoming a member of it.

Suddenly, a kinetic barrier lit up to the left... "Head down, recruit!" - hey, _not_ fair! Who said anything about live-fire on her first day? Now the motivation to traverse the dirt quickly was even bigger.

Ancestors, please let those be concussives!

"Up the rope! Transfer ropes topside!" Did the instructor really mean to swap ropes midair? Oh... "Bosh'tet!" - deck, closing at a rapid speed... Ow!

"Repeat obstacle! Double time!" Did he notice the insult? No time to think... Swap ropes, take two ahead.

Sar climbed the first, motioned into a swing... And let go of the first rope. "_Aah..._"...hah! There she was, on the other rope, barely caught.

"Climb up the rope! MOVE IT! GO, GO, GO!" The thought crossed her mind about what will she do up there. Then it struck her. There was a rope slide at the top. Across the entire cargo bay. _Of course_. It couldn't be easy, could it?

"Ancestors protect me..." , she quickly prayed, the thought barely a whisper...

"Wheeee..."

That wall was suddenly closing in at what felt a terminal velocity... "Argh!"

"AND NOW YOU SEE WHY YOU NEED TO WORK ON THOSE LANDINGS! MOVE ON, RECRUIT!"

Did that bosh'tet of a drill instructor NEVER shut up?

"Through the tyres!" Oh, classic. These looked like heavy-duty M29 Grizzly tyres. Couldn't be anything civilian with their vehicles being mass-effect based for the past couple hundred years. Quarian Marines used this technique since far earlier than their human counterparts. By the time Rannoch had it's first orbital station, they _still_ struggled to explore the entirety of their planet. And a hundred years later, as humanity finally managed to explore their homeworld, quarians lost theirs...

"Vault over and double time it back here, recruit!"

Was it really almost over? Well, time to get over the last set of obstacles. Just vault over two waist-high walls... Done. Time to fall back in line.

"Do you call that DOUBLE TIME, recruit? On the ground and give me twenty!"

Oh. So the drill instructor IS a bosh'tet. Why, by the Homeworld, did he have to take push-ups of all alien drill practices into liking? It's not like Quarians could even do them with the difference between their and human legs. Not without spending the next day moaning about pain, anyway. Which was probably the point.

This was going to be one of those days...

* * *

**12th July, 2179**  
**MFV Iktomi, Migrant Fleet, approaching Hades Gamma Mass Relay**

"Well, as much as I can't believe it, maggots, you've made it thus far! Now, it's time for you to fail horribly with close quarters weapons! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? DOUBLE TIME IT TO THE ARMORY FOR YOUR WEAPONS, RECRUITS!"

So, that was the first week, right? That had to be the hard part? There was one bonus, regardless of whether or not the first week was the worst: She'd get to fire a weapon at last. And that was enough to make it worth it.

Take a left, up the elevator a deck, corridor on the right... or was it left? ... third door on the left. Yes. There it was. The ship's armory. And a _lot_ of guns.

"Don't touch anything. Shotguns are to the _left_. Don't even look right. Nothin' for you to see there."

Surely enough, there were half a dozen Batarian-made Executioner shotguns. And next to them... Old M6 Warrior assault rifles, with their sleek lines calling out to use them. But to the right of the armory...

Two Marines were picking out their weapons, seemingly undisturbed by the guard's eye. Their choice was much less limited - and much more modern, with firearms made by the Asari and Salarians, as well as...

An honest-to-ancestors _sniper rifle_.

"I _want_ one..." Wait, did that come out loud? Keelah, I should really learn to keep my mouth shut. Hopefully nobody noticed.

But the man in red envirosuit did. "So you'd like to become a sniper, recruit? Heh. Guess everybody has dreams. You do well in your training, you might become one."

"Sergeant, with all due respect, we're _not_ supposed to talk to the recruits."

"And I know that. _Corporal_. Admiral was pretty clear on it. Grab our kit, get to the shuttle. Don't worry, we're not getting into any trouble." Then he turned to Sar: "Better grab your weapon and report back to your drill instructor. Nara can be severe."

Following his suggestion, she picked up the first Executioner she could lay her hands on and ran out of the armory with her fellow (and picky) recruits.

On the way back to the holo-range, Sar reflected on the two Marines' conversation. Their orders came directly from one of the five admirals, they mentioned a shuttle, and had an unlimited choice of firearms that were considered top-of-the-line in the fleet's marine corps. No Migrant Fleet Marine had any official business outside the fleet, and they wouldn't need a wide choice of firearms should their mission occur within. That left only one option: They were the first SF she ever met.

"That took you long enough, maggots! Were you manufacturing the weapons? Fall in line!"

The DI started pacing...

"First things first. Shotguns have a lot of recoil, so you WILL brace, recruits! I won't be picking you up like your momma when you first fell on the deck plating! Next is, these things are made for fighting up close and personal. None of that sniper bullshit most of you want!..."

"_Bosh'tet_..." Sar jumped at her own words, uttered under breath.

"...They fire buckshot. For all the dumb maggots among you, that means the round fragments mid-flight to deliver a spread of smaller rounds. But make no mistake! This enhances shield-piercing AND wounding capabilities up close! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

This time, the recruits knew how to answer - "SIR, YES SIR!"

"WELL GET IN LINE, WE'RE GOING TO SHOOT SOME HOLOS!"

The neat line of recruits has dispersed towards the three shooting lanes, replacing the freshly-disposed obstacle course, with Sar finding herself as the first for lane two. If she had any appreciation for the Fleet, it was thanks to this usage of space. Once something wasn't necessary anymore, it was simply removed - and in some cases stored away for later use, or in majority, recycled.

**Five minutes later**

It didn't take long - only after a few minutes, Sar knew shotguns are a piece of _junk_. It didn't matter how well you were aiming, the Executioner was simply Batarian in design - with huge spread and huge recoil.

The Drill Instructor, pacing as he was, didn't help it - only made her nervous. As she pressed the trigger again, only to see the Batarian holo still laughing at her, he stopped and closed in.

_Ancestors, why me_, she thought.

"Looks like we're got ourselves another maggot that won't pass her basic! What will you do when it's _not_ a holo, recruit? _Scowl_ at them!?"

Just... survive... this. Don't loose your temper...

"You WILL, recruit, be able to take that target down in a single shot by the end of the day, I guarantee you!"

**18th July 2179**  
**MFV (Migrant Fleet Vessel) Iktomi, Migrant Fleet, approaching Benning, Euler system, Arcturus stream cluster**

"Welcome back to the range, maggots! Today, you will learn to fire and maintain the standart issue sidearm. Everyone pick one up from the table! Hurry up, maggots! Pick a firing line!"

Sar picked up the brand new - these pistols would probably remain theirs if they passed basic - Edge pistol from the table, and hurried to (by now her) firing line number three, complimental Batarian holo from last week included.

There were several obvious differences - first, the shotgun felt like a battering ram. The pistol, on the other hand, fit her hands _perfectly_, was much lighter, and even without a spread, felt _much_ more useful in close quarters.

She aimed right on the Batarian's head and awaited permission to open fire...

... the instructor paused his usual pacing at her firing lane, and mocked. "So, recruit, do you think you can _hit_ the holo with this? Weapons green."

Suddenly _very_ angry, she pulled the trigger.

"Ancestors... Recruit, can you explain this?"

The holo-target has changed. Now, there was a neat hole right in the middle of the four eyes.

"I... Sir, I can not, Sir!"

"Doesn't matter. That's a textbook headshot. Have you ever fired a sidearm before?"

"Sir, no Sir!"

"Recruit, you are to report to CQB mock-up immediately. Pistol only. Let's see if you can keep this precision up under pressure."

"Sir, Yes Sir!"

* * *

The CQB mock-up. There was a lot of wood involved in building these structures. Which also meant dummy ammunition in weapons. As soon as Sar stepped in the hangar bay #2, temporarily housing the sight, the rangemaster waved her down.

"Alright, recruit. The Sergeant told me you've shown something special. Good job. He's a tough bosh'tet to impress. Let me explain the whole thing. You climb up that ladder...", he pointed to one corner, "...and then you fastrope on the balcony. Clear the first room quickly and effectively. When you're done, go down the stairs...", he lit up holographic representation of the mock-up on his Omni-Tool... "and clear two more rooms. One of them is a concussive ordnance-aided breach..." - he lifted two grenades off his belt - "... with these things. Not a concussive shot, but you're not yet in any specialized course, leave alone Rifleman - you wouldn't know how to use a concussive round..." - the holo of the course changed on his Omni-Tool - "...and this is the end of the course. Get back to the beginning, actually."

The question was hanging in the air, only needing to be voiced, as Sar did just so - "How do I use the... grenades?"

"Pull the pin, throw the damn thing. In the field, you'd actually be using low-grade arc grenades. A good EMP blast temporarily takes down most enemy tech we've encountered so far, and if you modify it, these bad boys blind, deafen and disorient anyone caught in the blast. Nothing permanent, don't worry."

"Low grade?"

"High grade Arc-nade's..." - he paused - "...that's how most Marines call them, by the way - anyway, high-grade variants are lethal. You'll be using dummies today, so don't worry. We don't want an actual Arc-nade to mess up the holotargets. You can start any moment. Just wave down the tech before you do. Good luck recruit."

As Sar closed distance to the tech, sitting behind a desk with a pair of holos, looked up from his work.

"Ok, recruit. I've been told to set the basic course. I'm not sure if you're lucky, recruits don't usually do this."

"It's an order. Refusing is _way_ above my pay grade. I've been told to report here before I start the course? Sir."

"Picking up Marine manners already, are you? Fine, recruit. It's a standart barricade scenario. Two floors, three rooms, one balcony in total. Intel says there's four hostiles, no hostages. Assigned equipment is one pistol...", he paused in surprise - "... one arc-nade? Moving up in the world... Omni-blade _if_ user possesses... Oh, it's also a no-shield simulation. Grab that shield harness. If your shields go down, you've a breach and a failure on your hands. They're the weakest thing we've got. Just enough to detect a hit, not enough to protect againist one."

The shield harness was of simple design - small generator unit in the back, primitive two hundred years old non-form-hugging shield emitters all around the body. As such, it was still possible to stick a hand outside of the shielding - an imperfection long-since fixed on modern combat shielding equipment.

There was another, _slightly_ trickier part of equipment, however - a bandolier for medi-gel and omni-gel packets, should the suit's dispensers and supply not suffice, which also contained a few grenade pouches, as well as a thin layer of ballistic cloth, covering the torso, not unlike old human ballistic vests.

When she was done, Sar opened one of the grenade pouches and put an Arc grenade inside, then set out to climb the ladder. When she was half way to it, she could hear the technician shout her a wish for good luck.

Finally up the ladder, Sar walked to the rope...

... and gave the signal to the technician, simultaneously grabbing the rope and sliding down.

And then, _everything_ vanished. With no thoughts or feelings other than the job at hand, she was, for the first time in her life, free of all concerns.

The first target - another holographic representation of Batarian slavers - suddenly appeared in the window separating the balcony from the inside of the building. It never managed to "shoot" - it was _riddled_ with bulletholes.

Target two - another Batarian - appeared from the staircase, it's holographic representation swiftly making for the nearest table. Sar's shots disabled the simulated shields - but failed to kill the enemy. At that moment, the overhead speakers fired up.

"Lesson in momentum - I'd be _fast_ if I were you."

After a moment of confusion, she realized - reinforcements were probably coming. It was no longer a nice and quiet simulation. Now it was a quick and dirty simulation.

And just then, a plan was born - she was still on the balcony - which was built around the main building, whose wall was a semicircle. Sar dove below the window and began to move right, trying to flank the enemy.

At the edge of the window, she aimed over her cover - and found her opponent _completely_ open to fire. An excellent flank shot.

Then, her helmet comm unit fired up - to her surprise: "Listen up. Let's step it up. You're on comms with HQ now, and they want a report. Callsign entry team."

To add to surprise - the voice ordering her was neither the rangemaster's, nor the technicians - but it still conveyed so much authority that she never thought to question the order.

"This is Entry team to Command. The top floor is now clear with two dead enemies, but the bottom floor has not yet been cleared." - then, remembering proper radio discipline, taught for the past week, she added - "Over."

"Command. Understood, proceed downstairs. Out."

The voice felt familiar - but Sar could not place it.

Now at the top of the stairs, she checked her Edge's thermal status - rather pointlessly, as the clip already cooled down from the last shot - and set down at a careful, but swift pace.

And then it came - a deafening explosion from right under her feet. And a blast that took out all of the shield harness' capacitors power, and ultimately, her shields.

Also, somebody forgot to turn off the speakers.

"Oh, _yes_. This _never_ gets old, right Kal?"

"No, it doesn't. Shut off the speakers and _stop laughing_, Myr. I didn't tell you to do something that messes up the poor girl's career."

Then, the speakers shut off and the latter voice spoke to her through her helmet comms: "Sorry. Had to get your attention, and the tech went... _creative_. Finish the course and we'll chalk it up to a harness malfunction, but I want you to _listen_ while you clear the course."

Sar, thrown to the base of the stairs by the blast, stood up and scanned her surroundings - no hostiles in sight, and she was in one of the two ground floor rooms. There were also simulated scorch marks on the staircase behind her, probably from a tech mine, she though - thankfully holographic.

As she reached the doorway, the mysterious voice continued: "I keep telling the admiralty we need more snipers for our... more _sensitive_ operations. Mostly, they shut me down. Folks who want to be snipers, like you, are few and far between. And yes, I remember your reaction about that rifle in the armory." - that told Sar this man knows her - to some extent.

She drew the arc grenade from a pouch, and stacked up on the doorway...

"Long story short, they told me to find my own sniper if I want one. You're fresh in the business, but you got _here_, which means you have something. I'm giving you a chance. You dealt with the first two nicely, and seeing that Myr here thought it worth my while to watch you, you're a good shooter."

... she opened the door, and threw the grenade inside...

... and breached the room.

Both of the remaining Batarians were completely unshielded and stunned. Sar shot one in the back of his head...

And, as if in slow motion, turned on the second - who recovered and now was _charging_ her.

Panicked, she repeatedly pressed the trigger, until the holo fell to the ground, no longer a threat.

"I knew you'd be worth the time. Now why don't you meet me at the technician's booth?"

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**

_So, that's the first chapter. I don't really know how good it is, exactly, so feel free to let me know! Also, I'm not sure when (or if, depending on how much you folks like it) I'll update again._

_And as a last thing - I'll dare to put the disclaimer down here:_

**I DO NOT OWN THE SANDBOX. MASS EFFECT IS A PROPERTY OF BIOWARE/ELECTRONIC ARTS. I JUST BORROW THE SHINY STUFF.**


End file.
